“Yes, this is very cool!” He grinned in agreement.

“I was wondering something,” he asked as he looked at me a moment later. “Do your friends know how we met?”

I was confused why he would ask that. I felt my eyebrows pull together when I pondered his question.

“What do you mean?” I needed him to clarify.

“My embarrassing run into your pub. Did you tell them about that?”

“No!” I said quickly, confirming my trustworthiness. “I mean they know that you came into the bar, but none of them know under what circumstances. I’m sorry. I promised you that I would never say anything but I had no choice to tell them that you came in once before - it was the only way I could get past the questions so you could join us for poker.

“I swear the only thing I said was that you came in for a beer one afternoon. I didn’t tell them anything else.”

He looked at me funny. “That’s okay! I just figured you were pretty close with your friends that you would have told them about my run up your steps.”

“No.” I shook my head fiercely. “It’s none of their business. Ryan, what happened to you was private. Besides, I made a promise to you that I would never say anything. I’ll never break that promise.”

He smiled sweetly at me before casting his line back out into the water.

I picked up my fishing pole and clipped a little bobber to the line. I didn’t want him to feel like he was fishing alone, so I cast my line out and resumed my lounging position in the boat. If I caught a fish, the bobber would dip down into the water.

Two minutes later I had a nibble and reeled in the first catch of the day. Another bass was on the line. Ryan took the fish off the hook for me. I was too bundled up to move that far.

“He’s a tiny one!” Ryan said, examining the little fish up close. “Okay, that’s two days in a row that you caught the first fish,” he jeered.

“Jealous much?” I teased. “You’ll catch the next five anyway.”

“I’m about as jealous as you are,” he said flatly. With a quick flick, he tossed my little fish back in the water.

“Taryn, I want you to promise me something.” He looked at me until our eyes met. “I want you to promise that you won’t believe anything you read or hear about me.”

I opened my mouth to speak, even though I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say.

“Just promise me,” he insisted.

“I promise,” I vowed.

“If you have any questions or you want to know something, you ask me first before you believe any of the trash, okay?” His face twisted in anguish.

“I will.”

“Good.” His expression relaxed slightly, but I could tell he was still deep in thought.

My mind flashed over the questions that were still outstanding in my brain and I wondered if it was safe enough – if our friendship was strong enough – for me to ask. Does he have different women in his bed all the time? Was he dating or juggling several women right now? Was acting worth giving up his freedom?

I looked over at him as he sat peacefully fishing out on this beautiful lake. I knew he was living in some psychotic fish bowl, under constant scrutiny. Do I dare bring up any touchy subjects?

There was one question I felt I had the right to ask.

“Ryan?” I paused until he looked at me. “I do have one question. Since you’ve already asked me this question and I gave you an honest answer, I’d like to hear your honest answer too.”

His eyes narrowed with confusion.

“Are you… are you involved with anyone…now? I mean, I presume you’re dating people.” I was so nervous asking I couldn’t help but stammer over my words. But I needed to know if I was part of a collective. His face was expressionless, so I felt I had to continue.

“It’s just… you asked me, the first day we met. I just wondered.”

His expression changed from a blank stare to a grin. He looked me in the eyes.

“No,” he said, smirking at me. “I’m not seeing anyone. And to answer the other question you’re not asking, the answer is months – several months.”

“Why is that?” I asked hesitantly.

He glared at me again before answering. “How can I ever know if someone wants to be with the celebrity or if they’re enamored with a character I’ve portrayed? The lines get blurred between what I am and who I am.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Then there’s the… fear of having intimate details appear in print. I already have enough to deal with when they print the lies.” He started rubbing his forehead and I knew this was tough for him to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I – I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Why would you say that?” His brows pulled together as he looked at me.

“I feel bad for bringing it up. You have enough stress to deal with - you don’t need me asking stupid questions.”

“The fact that you’re here, with me, gives you the right to know. This isn’t just about me! Don’t think for one second that I haven’t considered how this affects you and your privacy.

“I’ve been seen in your pub twice. The paparazzi aren’t stupid. I’ve tried to keep my reason for being there hidden, but I didn’t do a very good job. Rumors about me staring at you have already been printed.” He hung his head down and grabbed the bottle of soda that set between his feet.

“I don’t care that they’ve printed that I was looking at you, but believe me I do care that they leave you alone. Please tell me immediately if-”

“Ryan, how can you stand this?” I interrupted. “You are entitled to a life! You deserve to be happy! Is this career worth it?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He looked out over the water. I could tell that he was torn.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “I like doing what I do. I love being an actor. But the psychotic bullshit that comes with it is something I didn’t see coming. It’s all become very overwhelming.”

“I feel bad for you,” I whispered.

He looked at me, confused.

“It’s not right that you have to pay such a steep price for doing something you love. Especially since what you do is meant to be a gift to the public that torments you. You’re an entertainer; you shouldn’t have to hide, but I know why you have to. I know that they never leave you alone - that you’re constantly hounded.”